


Washing It All Away

by Marvelruinedmyspirit



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 13:38:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2231052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvelruinedmyspirit/pseuds/Marvelruinedmyspirit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Cap: The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes has a list of names to cross out before letting Steve catch him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Washing It All Away

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Here I am back for another Marvel One-Shot. I wanted to write about Bucky for a while, but I was always afraid to screw it up. So yesterday, I figure... Why not?  
> Okay, so, enjoy, I guess.

Bucky Barnes loves the rain.

He had always loved it, from his childhood when he and Steve would build fortresses of pillows and tell each other stories with the sound of the rain hitting the window in the background to now, when he doesn't know who he is or where or when. He had always loved it, through all the dark years of his past, even in the years when the rain was nothing more than an inconvenience when it was war and he needed a clear view to shoot, even in the years he couldn't, can't remember, even when he wasn't supposed to love, think, know, want or do anything that wasn't his mission.

The Winter Soldier didn't care, but Bucky Barnes had always loved the rain, and you can't erase a person completely, not to the core, so maybe there is enough of Bucky Barnes left in him to make him love the rain.

So he isn't bothered when it starts falling, slowly at first and then quite violently, he doesn't cover his head or run home like all the passers around him. He just keeps standing, perfectly still, in the same spot he's been standing every night for a week. He knows that, in a few minutes, the lights of the apartment will be turned off, and he will leave, just like every night. He won't come upstairs, he won't knock on the door of the apartment, he won't say 'I'm sorry to disturb, but I didn't know where to go', because the only thing he wants to do right now is to build a fortress of pillows with Steve, and that's impossible for so many reasons.

So he leaves without looking back, and he decides that he'll never come back again, but he will, tomorrow night, after Steve is back from wherever he was, because he can't help himself, because his dreams are just too much and if he can't deal with Steve himself, he can't deal with all of this without the light in Steve's apartment. It's already something, even though there isn't a fortress of pillows waiting for him, just like when they were kids.

That's something he'll never do again, something he still struggles admitting that he has ever done. The Winter Soldier never had a past, and knowing that he has one, that he has one day been Bucky Barnes feels wrong. It feels like robbing a human of his shell, taking all of his memories and feelings and pretending that it's the same. Only, it's not, because he's not human.

But he has been human, once. Does this mean that there is a chance that he might, once day, be human again?

The light disappears, and he’s alone, and the rain keeps falling as he makes his way back to his motel room.

* * *

 

He knows what Rogers is looking for. He has known for a while, now, and he still doesn’t understand, but somehow, he copes. The only problem is that what the Captain wants is the one thing the Winter Soldier can never let him have, and the one thing Bucky Barnes wants him to have.

At first, he had wondered why Rogers always seemed to follow his tracks, and he had thought that he was chasing him to put him in prison, or to kill him. Then, he remembered that Rogers wouldn’t do that to his best friend, even though his best friend no longer existed.

The idiot is just looking for him, however dumb this may sound. He’s just looking for him, probably thinking that, together, they can make it all okay. Only, the Winter Soldier isn’t ready to be found, and being okay isn’t an option. He understands that it can be hard to accept for someone as pure and as determined and as good and as whole as Steve Rogers, but it’s the truth. He’s not human, not yet, and who knows when he will be. He can’t come back home to the fortress yet, not when he’s halfway between a monster and a shadow, and nowhere near human.

And also, he has his own mission. While Rogers is looking for him, the Winter Soldier is looking for his previous owners. Most of them have fallen, he knows, but not all of them, and most of them isn’t enough. He needs them all to die painfully. He knows he will not rest until they’re all buried deep.

Every day, he tracks down Hydra Agents, relentlessly, mercilessly, until he’s back to being a machine, a weapon that has his own purpose. It’s never pretty, but he cares even less than when he killed for the people he now kills. And after a day of fighting and torturing for information and killing, after every ounce of humanity he has gained the night before is gone, he finds himself down Rogers’ building, and he watches. Rogers comes back every night, too. Maybe it’s a message. Something like ‘I’m home every night, if you ever feel like coming up, I’ll be there’. It’s comforting, even though he’s never going to seize the opportunity.

Tonight, it’s the sixth day of rain in a row. It’s almost as comforting as the light of Rogers’ apartment. After a mission, when he’s bathed and drowned in the warm blood of his enemies, he goes out and feels the water on his face, and, for six day, on the rest of his body too. He lifts his face to see the sky covered with dark clouds, and he feels the rain washing the blood and the guilty conscience and the pain and the weariness and everything away. And, maybe, washing the sins away.

He knows that so much sins can never be washed away, but it feels nice believing it, so nice, only for a while. And when the light in Steve’s apartment disappears, he goes back to his motel room, his heart lighter, and no one knows, and no one can punish him for that.

* * *

He goes back to that place in D.C., in the tank beneath what looks like a building, one of the numerous Hydra bases in the city. That was what he was supposed to do, if anything went wrong during his mission. He didn't want it, but he was not in charge. Never in charge. Maybe life was better this way. Not having to make the call, maybe it made it all easier. It wasn’t anything like freedom; then again, he didn't know what freedom was.

The first time, the building is empty. All the Agents, Doctors, they are all gone. He thinks he could pretend, like he is only ignoring them and they are still there, fluttering all around him, doing whatever they were doing back when he was following orders. He didn't know what was happening, he didn't need to. He didn't care. He sits in the chair, and closes his eyes, and he thinks he can imagine the pain of the wiping. He thinks he can scream, and they will look at him with disapproval. He’s only a disturbance, not even a human being. They used to look at him as they would a dog barking in the middle of a scientific meeting. Maybe that was what he was. Maybe that is what he is.

Next time he goes there, two days later, the building is full of Agents. But he doesn’t come in. Those aren’t HYDRA, or Pierce, or whatever the fuck it is he was killing for. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t want to kill anyone who’s not Hydra anymore, and he doesn’t want to kill anyone for anyone who’s not Hydra. He doesn’t know. It’s so confused, and he’s like a child who’s deprived of the only home he knows.

He knows it’s not home. It is nothing like home. He isn’t a fool, or, not entirely. But, for a while, it had been the only constant thing he had. The only place he could and had to return to. The only thing he remembered. The chair, and the Doctors. And the wiping, to wash everything out, just like the rain. Except the rain was gentle and clearing, and the wiping was brutal and cruel.

He leaves, without looking back. Maybe it’s better like this.

* * *

He knows that it is pure fantasy, but the more the list of the names he needs to wipe out grows shorter, the more he catches himself imagining it. He imagines that, one day, he will knock on the door, and Steve Rogers will open it, and his face will lighten up, and he will say ‘can I come in?’ and Steve Rogers will say ‘Sure’, and they can work things from there. Or he imagines that, one day, as Steve Rogers is chasing him, he’s going to slow down and allow him to catch him. He imagines the delight on Steve Rogers’ face as he says ‘come with me’, his voice and his words sounding like a prayer. He imagines that it’s a rainy day, and he imagines the water falling freely on his face, the water drops looking like tears on his cheeks. He imagines saying ‘okay’, hoping it’s enough. He imagines that it is enough.

But he also imagines that it’s not. He imagines Steve Rogers being disgusted by him. He imagines Steve Rogers hating him. He imagines having to run away from the place he’s getting used to call a possibility. It’s not a scenario he likes, but he figures that being prepared to the worst is the only thing that can avoid him being disappointed.

Yet in his heart, he knows. He knows how, when the time comes, when he lets Steve Rogers catching him, it will happen.

* * *

Someday, he will be walking somewhere, maybe in a street, maybe in a park. Or maybe even in his motel room. And all of a sudden, Steve Rogers will be in front of him, smiling uncomfortably. He will try to come closer, and maybe he will try to run away, but maybe he will let him. Steve Rogers will call him by his name, the name of his former self, but his name nonetheless. He will say:

“Bucky?”

And maybe Bucky will try to run away, but maybe he will say: “Steve.” He hopes he does.

And Steve Rogers will say: “Come with me”, so much like a prayer. He will have waited so long for this moment. The water will be falling on his face, even if it’s not raining.

Maybe Bucky will try to run away, but then again, he might say “Okay”, and it might be enough. It will be enough.

* * *

Bucky Barnes looks out the window of his motel room. It’s still early on the afternoon, but the sky is already dusky. This is the third week of rain, and a storm is coming, tonight. Maybe there is a fortress of pillow waiting for him somewhere, he thinks, crossing three names out on his list.

**Author's Note:**

> There it is. Thank you very much for reading. If you liked it, do leave a comment, it always makes my day (in fact, even if you didn't like it, still leave a comment to let me know).  
> I'm French, so, forgive the mistakes I might have made.  
> Bye!


End file.
